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flutterbee trickles
like fun filled tickles;
euphoria that
can tiptoe ever so
slightly over that
line, imaginary and suddenly

shards of PAIN

worry, doubt,
and regret
she never wished
to walk about
nevermind talk about

having everything
you wish for
presents itself
precariously

a paradigm of expectations
fulfilled

and then flattened

a line of straight blandness
steamrolled day after
day, new concrete
dark and then not
as much

peaks and valleys
manufactured

when she walks
her bones on that
elliptical machine at the
gym, each day a whim

her psyche LAUGHS
at the symbolism of
the endless effortless

pretending.

but what for?

this IS everything she
yearned for.

and more.

keeping on

She knows not where to begin
fill in
the time
between shitty wipes
and hubby gripes

it all blends and settles
like layers of rock

each settling differently
still in this concrete mold-
she resides on the top always

above it typically
beatifically

yet somehow she lost her
footing, her stronghold, her grace
the surface lost it's density
propensity

the more she reaches
to grab hold of it
of SOMEthing
of ANYthing

like loose silk
it slips
hauntingly away

GONE

all of her:
waxy and dangerous

she suddenly feels
like she is drowning
in a swell- of herself

one that builds and
recedes continously
and flames in her
chest and she cannot
let it out

release it

you see, it is trapped inside
her meditations
and her yoga
breaths
and her exercises and
her dialogues
and her inner most thoughts

STUCK

it is all around her
so breathes in
each exhalation
taking right back the
toxicity she just pushed
out

disgusted now and sick
to her stomach

vomit is not the
answer

unfortunately there
does not seem
to be one

not this time

so the tick tick tick
of her watch at 2 am
the heartbeat of this
heartache

is turned off

and is turned to
the tap tap tap
of the key board
beneath her heavy
soulbreathweightheartlife

she will start acting like it. (for tony)

ben folds piano curls about in her ears and years of unknowing is reduced to a swelling growing stormy waves crach and tickle her into awakeness her stony heart in slumber yawns and stretches and then the flood which she cannot dam and these tears which pull forth common memories and simple features: illuminated now and tell her her own story paint a portrait of them anew and "Yes, YES! he IS for YOU" she stops tending to diapers and puzzle pieces and her cup of joe to just sit and Know and finds her self melted into a wild puddle of herself and wades through the joy he has endlessly provided her Always she considers repayment but sharply kills this thought like a song she is not in the right mood for it is not about that it is about chords of emotion she fearfully avoids playing for him and therefore muffles the beautiful chorus he bellows for her his love is all he is and all he has and childishly she tucks it away and murders it and her love for him all neat and contained and sporadically parcelled out to him as though it could run low or run dry ugh sigh during this one tiny moment this one tragically romantic melody her feelings seem to leak out of their bolted box and spill messily about herself and she does not have to decide a single thing choices are obsolete she IS the luckiest.

the day

change cracks into our
psyche, a spiderweb
in our routine

anxiety sits
comfortable
a bubble in the chest
waiting for the right
moment...

POP!

or...to discreetly
dissolve
resolve.

the anticipation of these results
like an election between
two morons
both clever
and cutting
jutting is this move
this day
this season hath no more
purpose than
this reason...pleasin

and i see it all play out in
his mood
and his face
and the words he is NOT
saying
the gesture away and
up the stairs
anywhere but here.

and i wonder
am i doing this right?

is there ever
any way to know?